TIEFighter 2: Battle Lines
by FTeik
Summary: Being noticed by your superiors is a double-edged sword. No longer hunting pirates, smugglers and the occcasional rebel the "Privateer's Bane" and her crew now have to prove themselves as part of a large battle-fleet. Question is, are they up to the job?
1. Chapter 1

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle Lines

Eight planets circled the small, yellow star. Four solids, three gas-giants and a captured rock that barely qualified as a planet. As well as a total of thirty-seven moons and myriads of asteroids concentrated in a belt between the fourth and the fifth world. Three of the four solid planets were within the zone that allowed the development of life, but only on number three evolution had progressed beyond simple algae and fungi. So far the system was barren of sentient life and in that way it wasn't any different from billions of other systems within the galaxy.

If there was sentient life to be found, it had to come from elsewhere.

--

With a flicker of pseudo-motion the Imperial frigate left the realm of hyperspace and started to cruise at medium speed into the system. With a length of seven hundred fifty meters and a maximum width of four hundred sixty the dagger-shaped vessel and its siblings were currently the largest class of frigates within the Imperial Starfleet. They belonged to the Acclamator-line of vessels, but where the original Acclamators had been devoted to the transportation of troops during the clone-wars the frigate-version was dedicated towards space-combat and space-patrol. Wedge-like planes and a hangar-bay on the ventral side as well as heavy armour-plating were the most notable differences. The protruding bulb towards the stern of the ship was testimony of a much larger and more powerful hypermatter-reactor than those used aboard the troop-transports. With a consumption of seven thousand six hundred tons of fuel per second at maximum reactor-output the vessels power-production was almost comparable to a light destroyer during the clone-wars.

At the Imperial Navy Headquarter on Coruscant this particular vessel was registered as ISS-Acc2F-Foerost-13,214. What meant, that it was an Imperial Starship, a frigate of the Acclamator-II-class and the 13,214th ship of its type built at the shipyards of Foerost.

Within the local sector-group and its crew the ship was known as "Privateer's Bane".

--

Entering the bridge of the "Privateer's Bane" Lieutenant-Commander Orkadi Chromme allowed himself a small moment to make a cursory glance over the large room. The members of the bridge-crew were sitting or standing on their stations, doing their jobs in the calm, concentrated way Chromme had come to expect from them. It wasn't the more relaxed atmosphere found aboard many of the smaller ships within the sector-group, where long tours of duty and relatively small crews allowed the people to become familiar with and comfortable around each other, but it also wasn't the stiff and tense enviroment where someone as eccentric and demanding as Darth Vader was breathing down your neck. No, it was the air of professionalism and confidence only stern, but also fair task-masters like Commander Tanikov and Chromme himself were able to inspire in the men and women of their crew. The Lieutenant-Commander had graduated among the top of his class, but the fine intricacies of how to inspire discipline - in other words leading - hundreds of people was an art form Chromme had only started to learn under Tanikow. The combat-performance of the "Privateer's Bane" and her crew were the highest within the local sector-group and it was only a question of time until Tanikov would get the promotion to Captain and the offer to commandeer a bigger ship.

For a brief moment Chromme wondered if he would follow Tanikov as his XO aboard a Star Destroyer, but he doubted it. The admiralty of the sector wouldn't allow the "Privateer's Bane" to loose both of its two most senior officers. And while it wasn't unheard of or even unusual for some officers to rise on the career-ladder in the shadow of an superior officer in some regions of the galaxy the local sector wasn't among them. No, as soon as Tanikov was on the way towards bigger things the "Privateer's Bane" would be Chromme's and he would be on his own. Not that the Lieutenant-Commander had a problem with that. The Chromme's were a prominent and influential core-world family, but had suffered the fallout of a political affair when Orkadi had graduated and as a result he had found himself serving aboard a small ship in the Rim-territories and not a more prestigious command within the core. Far from wallowing in self-pity and twiddling his thumbs Orkadi had gritted his teeth together and started to work his way up on his own. In a surprisingly short amount of time he had reached his current position and he was confident, that the "Privateer's Bane" wouldn't be the end of it. In that case it would be a good thing, that he wasn't too closely connected to Tanikov. No matter how good the Commander was, his career would always be overshadowed by the little fact that he had been born on a mud hole in the Outer Rim. Tanikov would get a Star Destroyer to captain, perhaps even become an Admiral in command of a Superiority-Fleet, but he would never advance above the sector-level. Chromme on the other hand might get himself a Star Cruiser or even battle cruiser in one of the many battle groups one day, if he played his cards right, but that was the future.

At the moment it was the present, that demanded his attention. Tanikov wasn't sitting in the chair reserved for the captain, but standing next to the ring of holo- and command-displays surrounding it, studying a tactical image of the system. Walking over to his superior officer Chromme nodded his head in a silent greeting and - giving the holo a look-over - said in a slightly sarcastic voice.

"Yellow sun, four rocks, three gas-balls and a number of asteroids. Haven't we just left this place?"

"No, that was three rocks and five gas-balls." Tanikov answered mildly. "I know our current mission isn't as exiting as controlling the traffic and inspecting the freights on the sectors major hyperlanes, but we weren't covering our self with glory doing these things, too."

"I know, Sir, I just can't help myself. After fighting pirates and chasing down smugglers for so long, not to mention the handful of insurgencies we managed to stamp out investigating the loss of a probe-droid seems a little dull." Chromme would never admit it, but he was eager for an argument. Unfortunately Tanikov wouldn't have it.

"I would consider it a sign of our continued success, that there are no pirates and smugglers to hunt at the moment. We either caught and sent them to Kessel or they went into other sectors searching for safer grounds. With the eradication of the last uprising the locals should have finally learned that attempts at resistance are pointless. Now that peace and order are restored nothing should prevent our worlds to prosper and it is our duty to ensure it stays that way. What demands constant vigilance on our part and that means investigating everything out of the ordinary. Including a probe-droid, that didn't sent its final report before its self-destruction." The Commander reprimanded.

"Yes Sir." Chromme answered, suppressing a sigh. He had to admit that his superior was right. The galaxy was a large place. Too large to be effectively supervised even by the rapidly and ever growing Imperial Starfleet. As a consequence the ships and fleets of His Imperial Majesty were concentrated around the known population- and industrial-centres and the space-lanes connecting them. Remote and supposed to be uninhabited systems like the one the "Privateer's Bane" was currently cruising through received a lot less attention in the form of more or less regular sweeps by a ship on patrol or, if no ship was available, by automated probes. The probe-droids carried enough fuel for one or two sweeps through the system, were programmed to make regular reports and - once they were out of fuel - were supposed to destroy themselves. Before its self-destruction the droid would sent its final transmission, which included a special code-sequence signalling the initiation of the self-destruct. Aside from preventing potential enemies getting their hands on Imperial technology the purpose of this procedure was to let the empire know, that its automated spies were no longer watching. Probe-droids were mass-manufactured and it was cheaper to have them destroyed and launch new ones into space, than to collect and refuel them.

However when a probe-droid failed to deliver its final report it was necessary to investigate the where, how and why. Which was why the "Privateer's Bane", a seven-hundred-fifty meter long vessel, crewed by more than thousand men and women had spent fuel worth several ten thousand credits to reach its current location.

"So what do you think happened? Are we looking at a malfunctioning transmitter or an unfortunate run-in with the local fauna? The last report from the probe was from a planetary surface, so it can't have been an asteroid." Chromme asked.

"At its current level the local fauna isn't worth much, so it has to be a broken transmitter. Or something from outside the system. In which case your wishes for some action will come true." Tanikov looked at his watch and then on the hologram again. The "Privateer's Bane" was now thirty light minutes from the fourth planet away. "We'd better be careful. Have a flight of TIEs looking for our missing droid, while we stay in a safe position. And lets wake our crewers from their naps."

With that the Commander sat down in his chair and pressed a button. The next moment the annoying sound of alarm-klaxons wailed over the bridge and through the entire ship, informing everyone aboard the frigate about the switch from ready to combat-status. In the hangar-section pilots rushed from their ready-rooms to their fighters and additional gunners arrived at their turbolaser-stations. In the control-station of the vessels main reactor technicians and engineers prepared the sleeping heart of the "Privateer's Bane" to run on maximum output, while the non-essential sections of the ship were closed down. Astromechs and other repair-droids left their storage-rooms and readied themselves to support the damage-control-parties spread over the frigate. Thirty seconds after being activated the alarm-klaxons shut down and another thirty-five seconds later the last department of the ship had reported its ready-status to the bridge.

"One minute, five seconds." Chromme reported from his own control-station. "That is twelve seconds below our current record."

"And five below what the Admirals would view as "at peak performance". We need to do this more often. Now have those TIEs on their way." Tanikov admonished.

"Yes, Captain." Chromme answered.


	2. Chapter 2

TIE-Fighter 2: BattleLines

Chapter 2

With a frown on his forehead Kolt Ceavers calibrated the scanners of his fighter. The additional equipment had turned the TIE/ln (TIE/ln = TIE/line, ordinary fighter) into a TIE/fc (TIE/firecontrol), what meant that the sensors of the small vessel had a wider reach and were much more sensitive than those used by the normal fighters although at the cost of one laser-cannon. At the moment he and his three comrades from Red-Flock were moving through the upper atmosphere of the fourth planet of an as yet unnamed system in search for the remains of a missing probe-droid.

It wasn't that the Lieutenant didn't understood the necessity for this mission. Far from it. Imperial sensors were capable of discovering traces of technology from outside a planets star system. Many of the newer worlds within the GalacticEmpire had been discovered this way and observed from afar before contact had been initiated. For those activities no automated surveillance was needed. It were the groups hostile to the Imperial Government and with access to the same or comparable equipment to the Imperial Forces, that caused the use of probe-droids. Pirates, smugglers, mutinous elements from within the military and the countless tiny groups of terrorists and insurgents, that wished to hide from the ever watchful eyes and ears of the Empire. ECR-countermeasures, emission-dampening, sensor-camouflage, innumerable designs and approachs to cloaking-technology and so on made closer inspections of the billions of uninhabited systems of the galaxy necessary and for that purpose the Imperial Starfleet lacked the ships. Instead they sent probe-droids and only if those went missing did they sent a ship to investigate.

Something that happened in nine out of thousand cases.

Most times there was a completely harmless reason for the loss of a probe-droid. They were hit by an asteroid while on their flight in-system. They got incinerated by sudden solar-flares. Predators too large to be easily killed by the onboard weaponary of the probes confused them with dinner. Or the Arkayad-plant, where the probe had been built had messed up and the energy-supply had failed or the transmitting-equipment malfunctioned.

"Hey Kolt, what do you think? Are we looking at a damaged transmitter or a large carnivore?" Tser Shintsky, who currently acted as wing-man for Ceavers asked.

"If you hadn't slept through the briefing you would know, that this planet has no large carnivores. Not even small ones." "Farmgirl" Hella Jalpa and the only female of the quartett said. "With our luck it will be a larger bunch of pirates than at Durinol."

"With my luck we'll disturb the new son-in-law of the local Moff and his bride on their honeymoon." Tser Shintsky remarked. "You guys remember Holegg Gars?"

"How could we forget Holegg Gars?" Hella asked back. "The poor fellow was just doing his job when he and his flock thought they had discovered a bunch of smugglers in their sleep. Deciding to wake them a little roughly they used their TIEs for a number of sonic booms, before the stormtroopers landed. Image their surprise, when the supposed smugglers turned out to be a group of CoreWorld-VIPs on a hunting trip. It took them hours to sort the mess out, because the sonic shockwaves of Gars and his morons had destroyed the communication-equipment, all their ear-drums and the three-thousand year old porcellain-service of one of the wives of the hunters."

"Small miracle Holegg wasn't kicked out of the military considering the preferential treatmeant CoreWorlders recieve these days." Karamu mused.

"He would have been, if the hunting-trip hadn't been illegal. Most of the animals found killed by the hunting-party were on one of the many protected species lists. So Holegg got only demoted and was coordinating the traffic in orbit of Brentaal for two years, before he was shipped of to Carida as future flight-instructor. However his career as an active TIE-jockey was still over." Hella finished.

"A fate we won't met for years, if we're lucky." Tser muttered into his helmet.

"If we live that long." Kolt pointed out.

"Why shouldn't we? We're TIE-pilots. We're the best. Everybody knows that." Karamu argued.

It was true, Kolt thought. Pilots were the mainstay of the Imperial Navy. Every officer and NonCom of the fleet had at least rudimentary training as a pilot and the best of the best made it into the academies of the starfighter-corps and of those only ten percent made it into the cockpit at the end of their training. They were the best. They had to be, because a lesser pilot wouldn't be able to fly a TIE.

"With MY luck, it will be a bunch of slave-traders from Ryloth and their goods." Karamu Stafar added.

"Poor Karamu. He thinks that if we rescue some poor Twilek-girls from their fathers and uncles they'll show some gratitude and he'll finally get laid. Dream on."

"Hella, you misjudge me! You know I love only you." Karamu sounded hurt.

"Doesn't prevent you from "making" love to every halfway attractice female you meet." Hella shot back. "Shows how much of a priority I am to you."

"Again you misjudge him." Tser came to the defense of his friend. "He is just trying to stay in practice for when you two finally get together.

"Tser is right. I don't want to let you down." Karamu purred.

"If you get me a piece of that cute Zeltron you are dating on ORD Brunis I might change my mind. Hell, I might even let you watch when I show the poor girl what she has been missing with you." there was a hint of a challenge in "Farmgirls" voice.

"Hella, you scare me. I never expected you to swing this way." Tser explained. The surprise was evident in his voice.

Kolt, who had been silently listening was also wondering about this until now unknown side of their wing-woman. "Yeah, Hella, we never suspected anything."

"Don't act surpirsed. This is all your fault. I know it. Hanging around with testosterone-bombs like the three of you has corrupted me. I'm already thinking of myself as one of you guys."

"Hella, you are one of us guys." Kolt explained. "Even if your reproductive organs are on the inside of your body you're part of the team. You're our friend."

"Best friend." Karamu added.

"Thank you Scanner." Hella said softly after a moment. "You don't know how much that means to me."

"I think we know." Tser answered in an equally soft voice. Then getting back to the tone of friendly banter. "Of course now you have to allow all of us to watch, when you give Karamu's Zeltron on ORD Brunis the time of her life."

Karamu and Kolt chuckled at that.

"GAMORREANS. YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF PRIMITIVE, CHAUVINISTIC GAMORREANS." Hella thundered in mock-rage.

"Alright kids, that was enough fun for one hemisphere." Kolt explained. "No sign of our missing droid and we are almost at the equator. Time to take a look at the other side of the planet."

-----


	3. Chapter 3

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle Lines

Chapter 3

„They've found it." Chromme was able to report, when he returned to Tanikov's command-station. „Seems a malfunctioning repulsor caused the blasted think to drop into the ocean two kilometers from the shore of the southern continent."

„How deep will our recovery-crew have to dive?" the commander asked, setting the limit for a recovery-operation at five hundred meters. It was well and good to give the spacers under his command as much practice as possible, but at some point a line had to be drawn, was the expanse of blaster gas for a turbolaser shot less important, than the time and resources spent on recovering a droid, whose original fate would have been self-destruction in the line of duty anyway. Instead it would be the gunners, who would get the chance at some real target-practice, not the pilots and technicians of the salvage-crew.

„It is still on the continental shelf, so it isn't any deeper than three hundred meters." Chromme answered, unaware of the thoughts running through his superiors head.

„Seems my gunners got lucky this time." Tanikov thought. Aloud he said. „Send the salvage-crew on its way. Tell them they get bonus-time for the recreation-tract, if they are back in two hours."

Delivering the orders of the Commander to the salvage-crew Chromme observed as only moments later a shuttle appeared on the port side of the „Privateer's Bane" before it accelerated towards the planet. Moving back to Tanikov's command-station the XO saw a member of the sensor- and communications-crew giving the Commander a data pad. His curiosity raised Chromme stepped closer only to hear Tanikov dismiss the pretty ensign.

„That would be all, Ensign Peerma." the Commander said, his gaze fixed on the screen of the data pad. Chromme watched the woman return to her duty-station, while he waited for his superior to finish reading and inform him about the message's contents. He had to admit Ensign Peerma had a nice rear, even with the austere Navy-uniform covering it. He suppressed a sigh. No matter how relaxed the regulations were handled within the local sector-group and especially aboard the „Privateer's Bane", given their difference in rank anything more intimate than the strictly professional relationsship they enjoyed now wasn't possible between Lieutenant-Commander Chromme and Ensign Peerma.

„Lets see what we have here." Tanikov muttered. To Chromme's surprise the Commander had to use his code-cylinder to decode the message stored on the data pad, what meant that the encryption-code hadn't been stored within the databanks of the ship itself. Obviously the message was top-secret.

The expressionless mask that was the Commander's face was replaced by an irritated frown when Tanikov was finished, then he handed the data pad to Chromme. „Read for yourself." he almost snapped. „It seems the gods have answered your prayers."

From

Kisander Venadra, RA

Office of Ship-Deployment

ImperialNavyHeadquaters

AnaxesCitadel

Sector Zero

To

Ian Tanikov, Co

ISS-Acc2F-Foerost-13,214

5th Force Escort, 3rd Superiority-Fleet,

Wankataan-Sectorgroup

Wankataan-Sector

Commander Tanikov,

Due to yours and your commands outstanding and exemplary performance in fighting His Imperial Majesties enemies and protecting His Imperial Majesties domain you and your command are hereby re-assigned from Wankataan-Sectorgroup to replace ISS-Acc2F-Rothana-31,449 as part of the 4th Dreadnought-Division of CRIMSABCOM, based on SpaceComplex Mantoon.

We congratulate you and wish you good luck with your new assignment.

Don't fail us.

All Hail the Emperor.

Signed

Maka Testel, Staff-Captain

i.a.o. Kisander Venadra, Rear-Admiral

Chromme read the message, then read it again.

„A large introduction, a short, but pompous piece of text and the obligatory threat at the end. Typical for a communique NOT put together by the droids. Well, at least we have been noticed."

„More likely somebody's attention has been directed at us. Despite its name the Office of Ship-Deployment doesn't deal with single ships. And aside from the fact that this message has been composed by an organic being, I find it highly suspicious, that the message was signed by this Captain Testel in absence of his superior." Tanikov grumbled.

It took a moment for Chromme to understand what his commanding officer meant. „Plausible deniability for the good Admiral?"

„Right. We're given the chance to prove ourself and if we fail … . Well, we might find ourself in Wild Space or even the Unknown Regions and then the recovery of missing probe-droids will be the last of our worries, while Rear-Admiral Venadra's intention was just misunderstood by his Staff-Captain." A humorless grin appeared on Tanikov's face. „Isn't your uncle on one of the Senate's supervision committees? Perhaps you want to discuss this recent development with him." _„And thank him for the mess he got us in."_ which wasn't said, but Chromme heard it nevertheless.

„I don't think that would be necessary." the Lieutenant-Commander answered. „I wouldn't be surprised if Uncle Urgoyle already knows of our chance at … advancement."

„If you say so. Now tell our recovery-crew to hurry and call our TIEs back. As soon as they are back we make the jump to light speed. We have an appointment with CRIMSABCOM."

---

As soon as the „Privateer's Bane" had accomplished its mission of recovering the Empire's missing probe-droid the ship accelerated away from the nameless planet and out of the nameless system. With the course already plotted the frigate jumped into hyperspace the moment it was out of the planetary gravity-well. Few aboard who weren't close to a window would have noticed the shift from one dimension to the other, but those who know what to look for were always able to detect the change in vibration from the ships machinery. Kolt Ceavers was among those. After taking a hot shower, eating a small meal and getting a few hours of sleep he was back on his way towards the hangar and his fighter.

„HEY, SCANNER!"

The loud shout caused Kolt's face to be turned into a grimace. After wearing a helmet and communicating via radio for hours his ears were always particularily sensitive.

„Yes, Ensign Peerma." Kolt asked with good natured humor in his voice.

He and the pretty ensign used to meet on a regular basis in one of the ships cantinas to discuss almost everything from pod-racing to the development at the stock-exchanges, not to mention the main object of their profession: sensor- and communication-equipment. Aside from that their relationship was best described as „friends with benefits", they both knew that with the next assignment or promotion they could end up on different sides of the galaxy (well, perhaps not that far away from each other). The company was good, the sex most of the time even better, but Kolt Ceavers and Ateena Peerma didn't expect it to last. Which was a shame, because almost all of their friends were convinced, that they were meant for each other.

„I have the calculations you wanted. The main computer almost shut down when I entered your parameters, but it finally spat something out for you to work with." Ateena's voice became serious. „You should clear this with the XO or at least your squadron-commander. Unauthorized modification of imperial property could get you in huge trouble, especially if some narrow-minded technician or undercover ISB-agent should decide that your tinkering could be interpreted as an act of sabotage."

„Because I would sabotage the very systems my own life depends on when I'm out there." Kolt huffed. „How stupid do you have to be to make such an assumption?"

„Doesn't matter. If the ISB weren't such a racist … I mean High-Human-Culture-orientated bunch, they would probably employ Gundarks, if they'd fit into the uniform. Kolt, you know that type. If it isn't in the rule-book, it is bad."

Kolt had to admit, that his friend had a point. A galaxy-wide operating organisation like the Imperial Starfleet couldn't operate without a certain degree of standardisation (to put it mildly) and therefor wasn't the best enviroment for creativity and initiative. As a consequence improvements and progresses within the system appeared with slower speed than the movements of a glacier put under a stasisfield, if they weren't the kind of breakthrough, that was impossibly to deny or they had the backing of one of the higher ups. Somebody had once explained it to Kolt as an attempt to square a circle. An officer, who discovered an out of the book solution to a problem could expect to be either rewarded or to be court-martialled depending on his superiors. It shouldn't come as a surprise, that after the trial the solution was added to the rule-book. That was the Imperial Forces for you.

„Don't worry, I'm careful." Kolt answered. „And if this works, there will be a new chapter added to the rule-book. Not to mention, that the lives of a lot of our comrades will become a lot easier."

„Just promise me to watch your back." Ateena said, stepping closer and putting a palm on his check. Kolt's eyes widened in surprise, when she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. „A new chapter to the rule-book isn't worth your life. And the only pilot I care about is you." With that she turned away from Kolt and hurried down the corridor, leaving behind a gob smacked Lieutenant Ceavers.

Still wondering about the irritating behavior of the female ensign a change in the vibrations told the Flight-Lieutenant, that the ship had left hyperspace.

The frigate „Privateer's Bane" had arrived at SpaceComplex Mantoon, home base - among other things - for the fourth Dreadnought-Division of the Command CRIMSONSABER.


	4. Chapter 4

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle-Lines

Chapter 4

The Mantoon Space Complex wasn't the largest installation of its kind in the galaxy, but it was certainly the largest in this region of space. It had started under the Old Republic during the Clone-Wars as a supply-depot and a last assembly point for fleets on their way into the dozens of aggressively independent sectors in the Outer Rim, that had declared allegiance to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. With the end of the war those sectors had fallen under the jurisdication of the empire, but in many cases that had been in name only. Sure, the people and species living there paid lip service to the Imperial State as well as the taxes they owned Coruscant (and only if the revenue officials were able to back up their claims with enough firepower), but the empires grip on the area was less than secure. It was a problem that dated back to the Old Republic. As with the empire these days the sectors bordering Mantoon had been only nominally part of the Old Republic at best. What meant, that there had been only a few installations and facilities that had truly belonged to the galactic state within those systems. Facilites, that had come under control of the Seperatists when the crisis started and that were destroyed during the war either by Republic forces or the natives as soon as it was evident that the war was lost. What meant no garrisons, planetary listening posts, Ubiqtoriate-bases or military grade shipyards. As far as the Imperial Armed Forces were concerned, they had to start from scratch. That shouldn't have been much of a problem since new sector groups and sector commands were established on an almost daily basis, but with hundreds of hot spots closer to the core and the centres of Imperial power this special section of the Outer Rim wasn't very high on the priority list. As a consequence Mantoon Space Complex had for the last ten years served as major base and main shipyard not only for the local sector group, but the sector groups of more than a dozen adjorning sectors, the regional command, a number of auxiliary battle groups and „CRIMSON SABER COMMAND", one of the oldest and largest combat-fleets of the empire, dating back to the days of the clone-wars, while the Imperials slowly, but steadily tightened their control over the area.

All of this flashed through Commander Tanikov's mind, while he gazed at the displays that gave the illusion of windows on the bridge. The „Privateer's Bane" had left hyperspace several light seconds outside the security zone around Mantoon Space Complex, so the ships and facilities making up the base were still thousands of kilometers away. Over those distances they would have appeared to be nothing but tiny sparks at best, if the large displays had been real windows, but since they were not ships and other structures were magnified by several orders of magnitude.

Transmitting their clearance-codes the „Privateer's Bane" was allowed to enter the interdiction-field, that marked the security-zone. The large field was kept up by CC 2200- and more modern CC 7700-class frigates as well as a number of automated, stationary generators. The „Privateer's Bane" wasn't the only ship entering the security-zone. Aside from Imperial warships the base was approached by freighters, tankers and ore-miners of all sizes intend on feeding the many factories of the complex.

Before being taken over by the Galactic Republic Mantoon had been a minor joint-venture of the Mining-Gilde and the Corporate Alliance started two or three decades before the beginning of the clone-wars. The gas-giant which had given the system and the base its name was a rich source of tibanna, hydrogen and deuterium. Almost all of its eleven moons were extremely heavy with iron, nickel and a host of other ores, as were the asteroids of the system. While the Mining-Gilde had started to harvest the systems natural resources, the Corporate Alliance had established a number of factories to turn the raw-materials supplied by the Mining-Gilde into goods to sell. However because of the huge distance to the wealthy and populated centres of the galaxy unlike other operations of the large companies and syndicates Mantoon had never really taken off. As a consequence - once the clone-wars had started - there hadn't been much of a defense-fleet, when the Grand Army of the Republic surprisingly invaded the system early in the war. After the dust of the battle had settled down the system was firmly in the hands of the Republic and the largest moon - until then the centre of the operation and covered kilometers-deep with droid-factories - had been turned into a large marble by a Base Delta Zero. Pretty to lock at, but more or less useless. Unlike Mining-Gilde and Corporate Alliance the Republic and its successor the Empire hadn't bothered themselves with economic concerns and since then the system had been a hive of activity.

And at the center of all of this activity was the new Space Complex, a solid ring in orbit around the second-largest moon of the gas-giant Mantoon. A moon which had been hollowed out to house factories for parts used in shipbuilding, TIE-fighters, walkers and other engines of war. A moon which had been hollowed out to store ores and materials needed to feed the factories, fuel to feed the reactors of the large warships, Tibanna-gas as coolant for the turbolasers, armies of stormtroopers in suspended animation and their equipment. While the interior of the moon had been turned into huge storage- and production-space the surface of the satellite was covered with turbolaser- and ion-cannons too large to be put on starships and most spacestations, banks of proton-torpedo-launchers, hypervelocity-guns, shield- and gravity-well-generators, elevators connecting the moons surface with the ring in orbit, landing-fields for the freighers and tankers, barracks for the troopers and hundreds of other structures.

Aside from the main interdiction-field and the moons and the rings cannons Mantoon was protected by scores of by comparison smaller defense-platforms and orbital fighter-hangars built by Golan-Arms or Rendili-Defense-Systems. Not to mention the huge number of warships within the system. Aside from the CC-2200 and CC-7700 Interdictor-frigates there were frigates of the Gladiator- and the Acclamator-variant like the „Privateer's Bane" herself, squadrons of Victories and Imperators lead by hangarless Tector- and Bellator-Class destroyers, some of them on their own, others escorting even bigger ships like Star Battlecruisers of the old Questor- or more modern Praetor-class. The largest warships in the system however were a number of carriers and a handful of Star Dreadnoughts.

All in all the system was a very formidable fortress mirroring the defenses of even the most advanced worlds of the Empire as well as the fortress-worlds the CIS had established toward the end of the clone-war in the Outer Rim and which had made something like the OuterRim-sieges necessary.

Ian Tanikov supressed a shudder at the memories. According to the more modern history-books and Coruscants propaganda the war had ended with the deactivation of the droid-armies shortly after the execution of Order 66 and everything after that had just been cleaning up. It was just that said cleaning up had included the need to take several dozen Confederacy-worlds by force, that hadn't surrendered like so many others with the shutdown of the droids. The shutdown had given the Republic/New Imperials space-superiority without fighting, but the ground-battles had turned into a real meat-grinder. The Commander had been a fighter-pilot at the time, but there had been little need for fighters during those last few battles. Instead Tanikov had found himself and a lot of his comrades flying ferries, shuttles and modified gunships between planetary surfaces and the fleets MedStars transporting a never ending number of wounded and dying men. More than once a much younger Flight-Lieutenant Tanikov had vomited his breakfast onto the hangar-floor after one of these trips. The screams and moans as well as the smell had given him nightmares for weeks to follow and even today, more than ten years later he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, his body covered with sweat.

The „Privateer's Bane" passed a smaller Gladiator-class frigate on its way out of the system and a small, nostalgic smile appeared on Tanikov's face. Not all memories of the war were bad. He had started his career on one of those five hundred meter long ships which were sometimes mocked as the Venator among the frigates. The large hangar-opening between the forked bow had always been a major point of vulnerability, but it allowed the three (and sometimes even four) wings of fighters carried aboard a launch that was faster than on any other ship in the fleet. And the comradie and friendships among the pilots during those days had been a light in the darkness. Then Ian Tanikov had only been responsible for himself and his wingmen and as much as he enjoyed his current position there were moments when the Commander longed for those darker, more violent, but also more simple times.

Even if it meant pucking on the hangar-deck.

A sudden shift in the until then straight flight-path of the „Privateer's Bane" caused Tanikov to turn his attention towards the helmsman of his ship.

„Lieutenant, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded to know.

„Priority orders from Mantoon Space Control." the officer answered. „We were ordered to clear an approach vector for an incoming contact immediately."

„What kind of contact?" Tanikov wanted to know. Since the local space control was allowing the new arrivals to approach the base they had to be friendly. Or the officers in charge of the base wanted an incoming aggressor to be in the direct line of fire of the bases heavy cannons without a small frigate obscuring their view.

„On my display." Tanikov ordered. „Tactical."

On Tanikov's command-station a hologram appeared. One look confirmed, that a section of the interdiction-field had been shut down. The next moment flashes of Cronau-radiation revealed the arrival of several ships from hyperspace. The Commander was able to identify a more than eight kilometer long Carrier, probably Funditor- or more likely the older Lapidator-class, two Questor-class Star Battlecruisers, a dozen Star Destroyers of the Bellator- and Tector-variant and more than twenty smaller ships.

„Sithspawn." commented Orkady Cromme in a low voice, shock evident in it. „Looks like somebody dished out a massive beating and whoever it is, he isn`t on our side." The XO had joined his superior at his command-station.

The new arrived vessels looked indeed as if they had stayed on the wrong side of a number of turbolasers for too long. Formerly pristine grey-white hulls were now blackened from enemy-fire. Several of the star destroyers and one of the two battlecruisers were missing their bridgetowers. Also gone was the prow of the huge carrier.

„You don't say." Tanikov stated with acid in his voice. He had finally been able to put a name on the new arrivals. „For your information we're looking at the 6th Mantoon Battlegroup."

„Wait a moment." the XO of the „Privateer's Bane" said. Like Tanikov Chromme had made himself familiar with the ships and units ISS-Acc2F-Foerost-13,214 was going to share docking-space with. So he knew the names and the numbers of the varios task-forces and battlegroups stationed and operating around Mantoon. "The 6th MBG consists of a Star Dreadnought, a carrier, two battlecruisers and eighteen heavy destroyers. Not to mention almost fourty frigates and gunships as support-units."

„Consisted." Tanikov corrected. „It seems the „Conqueror" and six destroyers are lost."

„Hard to believe. The „Conqueror" belonged to the new Invasor-class and the Admiral in charge of the 6th MBG is Vespasio Vulpa. Not a man who would loose a third of his task-force and half of his frigate-screen."

„Stranger things have happened, Lieutenant-Commander." The Captain of the „Privateer's Bane" rebuked. „In every case Vulpa would have a lot to explain. It might be better for the poor Admiral, if he did indeed die aboard the „Conqueror"."

Lost in their thoughts the two men watched the remains of the 6th Mantoon Battlegroup moving towards the ring of Mantoon central and its docking-bays which promised shelter and repairs for the ships, rest and medical attention for the crewers. The sight of the badly mauled ships had brought the darker side of their profession to attention and while Tanikov's memories were filled with horribly smelling shuttles and vomit on otherwise pristine hangar-decks, Chromme felt himself suddenly longing for the boredem of inspecting freighters and recovering probe-droids.

Their throughts were interrupted by a report from the sensor- and communications-section. „Another new contact incoming. Triple-A-clearance." A moment passed and then the officer continued. „Ship identified. A single Imperator-class Star Destroyer."

Tanikov already had an idea who the new arrival was. After all there were perhaps six people in the entire Empire, who would have a Triple-A-clearance and out of those five almost never left Coruscant. The almost chocking sound from his sensor-officer only confirmed his suspicion.

„Sir, it is the „Exactor".


	5. Chapter 5

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle Lines - Chapter 5

With almost a half million destroyers of different classes in the Imperial Starfleet it was nearly impossible for a single vessel to rise to prominence above a certain level. An individual registration-number was no problem at all, but to get a halfway original name for your star destroyer as a captain, that was a task that requested some creativity. A character-trait that wasn't in high demand by the Empire. As a consequence there was a large number of „Avengers", „Iron Fists", „Tyrants", „Empires" or „Majestics" simultaneously in service, which allowed the Empire on the one hand to awe the common man on the street with the performance and heroic deeds of a single vessel (when in reality it had been more than one) and on the other hand it concealed the true size of the Imperial Starfleet to an Imperial Senate with its oversight and budgetary commitees, which still had some teeth left.

One Star Destroyer however had risen above all the others. One vessel's name was known and feared throughout the entire galaxy. A ship which had become operational only during the last days of the clone wars and which belonged to the first batch of the then new Imperator-class Star Destroyers.

The „Exactor".

Not because it belonged to the first of a new class of ships. Not because of it emerging victorious from too many battles to count. Not because prowess and discipline of ship and crew were legendary.

No, the exalted status of the „Exactor" (and the high performance of its crew) was a result of the ship being Darth Vader's personal space-cab. Darth Vader and his very own legion of stormtroopers, the 501st otherwise known as „Vader's Fist".

Darth Vader was an enigma. He had suddenly been there, out of nowhere during the last days of the clone-wars. Even more mysterious was his ascent to power as Palpatines personal ambassador. Darth Vader had no official position in the hierarchy of the empire, yet he was making decisions and commanding resources with far-reaching consequences and there was nobody he seemed to be responsible to, so of course his appearance had caused a lot of suspicions and rumours flying.

People who had never met the man claimed he was some kind of prototype of a new line of droids designed for the emperor to enforce his will with absolute loyality. Others who seemed to be more in the know were convinced, that Vader was a cyborg created originally by the Confederacy to replace General Grievous, since Palpatine had found him on the mining-world of Mustafar, which had been one of the last hide-outs of the Separatist-leadership. The man, if one was willing to call him that, certainly had the temper for that rumour to be true.

Tanikov himself favoured none of those ideas. To him Vader was either a former Jedi, who hadn't been part of Mace Windu's attempted coup and had assumed a new identity or a member of the numerous, small sects of Force-users that were scattered over the galaxy, who had been originally recruited by Palpatine to help with the Jedi-purge. This last possibility was the most likely in Tanikov's mind, since there was no way that Vader was a former Jedi. The Commander had fought alongside those and Vader just didn't have the character. The Jedi Tanikov had met had been good people, honourable people, not the power-hungry sociopaths trying to usurp absolute power Coruscants propaganda had turned them into. That wasn't a contradiction to their attempted coup, after all if there had been one word to describe the Jedi it would have been „preservers". Preservers of the status quo and a Galactic Republic that had ceased to exist. Ceased to exist was perhaps the wrong word, evolved and developed might be better terms. With the clone-war and before that crisis after crisis in almost every corner of the galaxy the Republic had to change for its own survival and the downfall of the Jedi had been, that they had been unable to accept and adept to that change.

A pity, but live continued.

So Vader was a sectarian. That was reason enough to worry, but he also had the ear of the emperor. Even before the war Palpatines health hadn't been the best and the attempt on his life had made things only worse. The kind and benevolent man, who had kept the republic together and saved the galaxy from itself had turned into a reclusive with people like Vader or Grand Vizier Pestage running the day-to-day-affairs of the empire and not all of it was good. Some of the newer policies could even turn into fertile breeding-ground for future rebellions and that was something the galaxy certainly didn't need.

Tanikov supressed a sigh. He was just a little commander, master over a small ship in a fleet numbering in the millions so what could he do? The answer was simple: Be a good soldier, do his job, live up to his obligations and responsibilities with dignity and honour and hope that his superiors knew, what they were doing.

Most of the time he was able to believe it.

He watched as the „Exactor" passed his own frigate less than five kilometers on their port-side and then turned back to his helmsmen.

„Lieutenant, have we been assigned a docking-bay by Mantoon Control? We are supposed to replenish our stocks and fill up the fuel-silos within forty-eight hours."

„No Sir, just a parking orbit. The survivors of the 6th battle group take precedence. They will have a slip free for us in twelve hours. Until then we have to wait."

„Typical." Chromme muttered. „First we're ordered to overheat our engines to get here and then we have to wait."

„The crew will survive the delay of their shore leave, Lieutenant." Although Tanikov's voice was mild the XO of the „Privateer's Bane" understood the rebuke. The Commander only adressed him with the lower half of his rank when he had enough.

„Of course, Sir. If there is nothing else I'll start the preparations for our restocking."

„You do that."

---

Not twelve, but eighteen hours later the „Privateer's Bane„ was finally laying inside a slip of Mantoon Central's main docking ring. Several tubes were connecting the ship to the station. Ultra-dense hypermatter for the reactor and propellant for the thrusters were pressed through meter-thick pipes into the fuel-silos of the vessel. Other pipes pumped fresh water and oxygen into their respective tanks, while large conveyer-belts and repulsor-droids carried huge amounts of containers filled with food-stuff, spare-parts, new engines and so on into the ship. Each member of the crew had been given a shore leave of six hours, what meant that there would be four shifts before every one of the „Privateer's Banes" spacers would have to be back onboard.

Among the second shift were the pilots of Red-Flock.

---

„I still can't believe we had to wait eighteen of our forty-eight hours docking-time in an orbit, sitting on our thumbs and doing nothing. We could have had four hours more of shore leave." complained Tser Shintsky. „Six hours are barely enough time to get to know the place, get drunk, laid and sober again."

„Look at it from the bright side, Tser." Hella answered. „You won't waste your hard earned pay on alcohol and you won't have to embarrass yourself by explaining to Dr. Hafdar how you got that STD."

„That wouldn't be a problem at all, if certain facilities for entertainment were put under the control of the Medical Department. But no, since decent and upstanding members of the Imperial Armed Forces don't frequent brothels and employ prostitutes scores of spacers every day aren't fit for duty because they are down with one or more diseases. Not to mention that those with little self-control prey after the wives and daughters of the natives or their own female comrades."

„Tser, are you suggesting that there are members of the Imperial Armed Forces, that have little to no self-control?" Karamu asked in mock outrage.

„There are no members of the Imperial Armed Forces, who have little self-control." Kolt explained. „And if you two pathetic boneheads continue like that you'll soon get a visit from ISB. Not that I care what happens to you, but then I would have to break in two new pilots fresh from the academy with no idea how things are done in real life."

„Yeah, like hard-working pilots desperately trying to blow off some of their hot steam with only six hours of shore leave."

„If you two want to blow of steam you can always start a bar-brawl with a few Stormies." Hella explained haughtily. „Maybe you are even lucky and the old man won't get to know about it and wouldn't throw you out of the next airlock. Without space-suits." Seeing the looks on Tser and Karamu's faces the female quarter of Red-Flock wondered, what she had said wrong. „What?"

„Real Stormies don't frequent bars with us other low-lives, Hella." Colt explained. „I don't know and I certainly don't care if those guys polish their blasters or recite poetry about glorious deaths in battle when they are not on duty, but if you see a Stromtrooper in a bar and he is not arresting or shooting somebody then you are looking at an army-grunt, who has been put into the armour by our superiors. There is a reason, why some people think there are more Stormtroopers than regular Army- and Navytroopers combined."

„Why would they do that? I mean putting regular guys into Stormtrooper-uniforms?" Hella asked.

„To take advantage of the reputation of the corps, of course. Subdued planetary populations might think twice about challenging the Imperial Army, but they certainly think trice about rebelling, if there are Stormtroopers in the neighbourhood. You can't reason with them, you can't negotiate with them. They don't feel compassion or remorse or fear and they won't stop at anything as long as the mission isn't accomplished." Kolt stated, his face a grim mask.

„You're kidding, Kolt, aren't you?" Hella asked. „That is just Coruscants propaganda talking."

„No it isn't. If you meet a Stormtrooper who doesn't have the mindset Kolt described he is just a regular grunt in white plastoid. You haven't seen those guys in action during the clone-wars. Kolt and I do." Karamu explained. „We grew up on worlds invaded by the Separatists and liberated by the Grand Army."

„Never forget that deception is an integral part of warfare. Multiple ships sharing the same name or one ship using several identifications, trillions of real Stormtroopers and quadrillions more wearing their uniform, the empire being victorious on all fronts, if there are battles mentioned in the media. The galaxy is supposed to be at peace, after all." Tser sneered.

„Which makes me wonder, how they want to put the current disaster with the 6th Mantoon Battle Group under the rug. I mean even with the constant warfare out here it is not every day we lose a battleship and a half dozen destroyers." Karamu mused.

„Nothing easier than that. This is a military base, so there are few civilians in the vicinity and the few, who have actually seen the 6th returning with their tails between their legs - like us - will be ordered to keep silence, while the units of the Sixth will be split up and distributed to other fleets or the battle group will be quickly brought back to its original strength with some of the other ships assembled here. I mean, we are here for the exact same reason. CRIMSAB lost a frigate, so they got us as replacement." Kolt grinned without humour. „Evidence for the covering up already taking place is, that we don't even know, who made the 6th bleed the way it did. And they claim only rumours are faster than hyperdrive-factor 0.5."

„Alright, enough with the politics. I see the door of a bar and it has our names on it." Tser explained. „The last of us at the counter is Palpatine's mother."

„That would be me then." Hella stated with a chuckle. „Sorry guys, but the contents of some of the shops here are more interesting than the beverages of a bar to a girl like me."

„You're not looking for souvenirs again, Hella, aren't you." Karamu asked concerned. „I don't know how you do it, but the kitsch you find is always the worst trash imaginable. I always want to poke my eyes out with a blunt object when I see the things you bought."

„Show some respect to the mother of the emperor, Karamu." Hella shot back. „You just don't have an eye for modern art. Now why don't you three gundarks have a few drinks without getting into trouble and let me do my shopping? Hush." And with that the female quarter of Red-Flock gently pushed her comrades towards the bar before turning away from them and walking over the promenade.

„Yes madam." Tser Shintsky mocked after her.

„I've heard that."

„Seriously, she is worse than my mother."

„Does Palpatine even have a mother … ."

---


	6. Chapter 6

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle Lines

Chapter 6

While the quartet of TIE-pilots enjoyed the simple pleasures of visiting bars and going on a shopping-spree, their superiors Orkady Chromme and Ian Tanikov entered a different arena of battle.

One of Mantoon's casinos for commanding officers.

The image the Galactic Empire was trying to project was one of ruthless efficiency in the name of stability and order, as well as one of a harsh, but fair meritocracy, where everybody could rise to the top, if he only worked hard enough. That was the theory and - as always - reality was a lot more complex. While to most outsiders the empire appeared to be a huge, unstoppable, monolithic juggernaut on the inside different factions and powerblocks were competing against each other and fighting for dominance. Old-school monarchists, meritocratic technocrats, New Order-zealots, the big money of the mega-corporations and so on, they were all looking out for themselves and what they viewed as the right course of the empire. The situation got even more complicated, since only few individuals could be clearly identified to belong to only one group. If for example a member of one of those noble families, that could trace their family-tree back to the founding of the old Republic was also on the board of directors of one of the mega-corporations he might be part of the camps of monarchist and big money. A member of the same family, who had joined the Armed Forces since he wasn't in the direct line of succession might belong to the monarchists, but also the meritocrats, while he had no connection to the big business. Interestingly they all thought, that Palpatine was on their side and just didn't support them more, because he still needed the others. It was a world of its own, with its own byzantine rules and constantly shifting alliances. The frightening thing was, that as sequestered and isolated this world seemed to be from the concerns and worries of the common man, what happened in it had often dire consequences in the „real" world. It affected the lives and careers of individual beings as much as the fate of entire star systems and since it permeated every aspect of life within the Galactic Empire, even the Armed Forces so the higher you got the more important it became to know the game and how to play it. As a consequence it was no wonder that Ian Tanikov and Orkady Chromme were on high alert, once they entered the casino, especially since rank-wise they would be at the bottom of the ladder.

Carefully the two senior officers of the „Privateer's Bane" made their way over to the counter, determined not to be drawn into one of the many conversations, but at the same time attentively listening to what was being said to get a feeling for the topics that were currently of interest or relatively safe to discuss.

„ … didn't know the Tagges have a sister."

„Can you believe, that her brother the Baron sent her to Monastery to protect … ?"

„ … heard the Blissex-Wessex-Team is working on a new Dreadnought-design even bigger than the Invasor-Class … ."

„ … while stocks of Chiewab Pharmaceuticals have lost eight percent over the last week … ."

„ … a scandal what happened with the 6th. But what else can you expect with the ISB meddling in the affairs of the Navy?" An older officer with the insignia of a captain and two code-cylinders explained. „If we're lucky that disaster will keep the white-shirts out of our hair for some time."

Chromme's face must have given away his disgust. More than a half million people dead and this pompous windbag … . But that was politics for you. Unfortunately Tanikov's warning glare came too late.

„You have something to say, Lieutenant … ?" the older officer asked in a suspicious voice.

„Lieutenant-Commander Chromme, Sir. My Executive Officer on the „Privateer's Bane." Tanikov stepped in. „And no, there is nothing he has to say. We have just arrived from our prior deployment within Wankataan-sector and are unfortunately not up to date on current events." He gave the other man a small smile. „If you'd be so kind to enlighten us, Commodore … ?"

„Lennox." The Commodore - who was actually only a Captain of the Line - examined the new-arrivals from head to toe through narrowed eyes, decided that they wouldn't get him in trouble and with a huff started to tell them what happened to the 6th Mantoon Battle-Group.

---

„Everybody who enters this region of space and keeps his eyes and ears open sooner or later hears the name „Mirkeeton". It is a world clouded in rumours, legend and hear-saying. To some it is a treasure-planet, its riches guarded by savage barbarians, to others just barbarians. Nobody knows for sure, since nobody has ever sat foot on the planet. Well, nobody who has ever returned. We don't even have the slightest clue about the inhabitans or what they look like. Six weeks ago we had something of a calm phase here on Mantoon and Moff Runrig therefore ordered the Imperial Survey Corps to sent a ship to investigate. After a week of observing and scanning the planet from outside the system the Survey Corps had indeed discovered traces of technology - high technology. So the next step for the Survey ship was to attempt to initiate contact."

Captain Lennox interrupted his narration for a sip of his drink and to collect his thoughts. Tanikov didn't urge the Captain to continue, since he knew the standard proceedings after a first contact. If the contact went friendly the Diplomatic Corps would have been brought in to convince the new world to join the Galactic Empire on its own. If the contact didn't go friendly the task of convincing the new world to join the empire would fall to one or more star destroyers. And considering the state of the 6th Mantoon Battle-Group … .

„Well, to make a long story very short, our people aboard the Survey ship were told in no uncertain terms to get lost, since the people on Mirkeeton weren't interested in joining anybody. We therefore sent a Superiority Force to bring them to heel and when we lost contact with them Moff Runrig dispatched the 6th. Problem is, at that point of time the ISB had taken an interest in the entire affair and the white-shirts practically demanded the problem to be dealt with as soon as possible and as harsh as possible, since no resistance to Imperial Rule can be permitted and especially not by a bunch of savages on a backwater planet in the Outer Rim yaddayaddayadda." Lennox huffed again. „As if a people able to completely whip out an entire Superiority Force is a bunch of savages, but try to explain that to those idiots. So while the Vice-Admiral in charge of the 6th Mantoon advocated a careful and cautious approach in the assault on Mirkeeton the ISB demanded a full out attack. Admiral Vulpa refused to led his men to be slaughtered and was therefore removed from his command on charges of dereliction of duty, cowardice and defeatism in the face of the enemy. The ISB put him into a holding-cell here on the Space Complex and Vulpa's battle-group went out without him. What was left of them returned hours ago." Lennox finished and took another sip.

„We've seen it." Tanikov affirmed. „Their return was in conjunction with our own arrival."

„Any idea what happens now?" Chromme asked, wondering why his superior didn't mention the additional arrival of the „Exactor".

„No, but if there is any justice left within the system the remaining ISB-agents are thrown out of the next airlock. Although it would be more opportune for the Navy if there was a trail and they and … ." Captain Lennox paled and his eyes went wide. He didn't finish his explanation.

„And?" the Executive Officer of the „Privateer's Bane" wanted to know, unaware of what had caused the older officer to stop his ranting. A shadow fell over him and Tanikov.

„Captain Lennox probably wanted to express his desire for a public humiliation of the ISB, Lieutenant-Commander." a deep voice accompanied by a regular, mechanical breathing rumbled.

Trying to get the twitching muscles of his suddenly equally pale face under control Orkady Chromme looked over to his commander, who didn't seem to be the least unsettled by the sudden presence of Darth Vader. Briefly he wondered, how the man had managed to sneak up on him and their little group since with a size of two meters and all in black and that loud mechanical breathing it should be impossible to overlook or overhear the man. Unsure how to react he saw his superior turning around and addressing the Dark Lord, while the other officers in Lennox small group looked like they wanted to sink into the ground. His respect for Tanikov grew in spades that moment.

„Lord Vader, it is an honour and a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

„Your and your commands reputation precedes you, Commander Tanikov." Vader answered. „So what is your stand on the bearing of consequences for the current … events?"

„That depends on what benefits the empire the most, Lord Vader." Tanikov answered. „While in theory a formal process and hearing in front of the senate should be lauded as an effort at transparency and openness the forces of the empire can't afford to not show a unified front to the galaxy. So it would be better to cover the entire affair under the rug. Give a strong, but private warning to the leaders of the ISB, that you don't tolerate those turf-wars. By that both would be indebted to you. The ISB for not being embarrassed and the Navy for making sure, that the Secret Police doesn't interfere to much in its affairs. Of course those directly responsible should still be punished in a way they and their superiors never forget."

„Are you suggesting we execute those poor souls?" Darth Vader asked, his voice betraying no emotion, while the other officers looked at Tanikov in outrage.

„That is certainly one of the options available to us." Tanikov admitted. „The galaxy is a large and dangerous place after all. But it would also be a very wasteful one, since the empire has invested a lot in those people. No, executing a handful of those responsible high enough that it doesn't look as if we're sacrificing a pawn for the sake of it and banishment for the rest to regions, where personal is desperately needed and few volunteer to go."

A sword would be needed to cut through the atmosphere around the small group of officers as they waited in tense silence for the reaction of the Dark Lord. Then Darth Vader gave a respectful nod to Tanikov.

„Very good Commander. We might make a successful politician out of you. Continue like this and you'll be a Moff in no time. If you'll excuse me now there are some matters I'll have to deal with. I'm sure we'll see each other at the briefing."

And with that he swept out of the room, his long, dark cloak billowing behind him.

„What in the seven corellian hells was that?" Of the people staring at Tanikov in awe Captain Lennox was the first to find his voice.

„That my dear colleagues was a lesson in Imperial intrigues." Orkady Chromme, who thanks to his upbringing was more familiar with that kind of thing, answered. „While the likes of us view the ISB interfering in our affairs as unwelcome intrusion and disturbance at doing our jobs the emperor and his top lieutenants are willing to accept those turf-wars, if they prevent their underlings to get to cozy with each other. You can guess trice why. The Commander probably also saved a number of lives that evening, since Vader is probably willing to execute a lot more people for their fault in this entire mess. Last but not least he prevented increased hostility by the ISB, by sparing them the embarrassment of a formal investigation, although I doubt that the white-shirts will feel indebted to us."

„But only if the Lord Vader follows Commander Tanikov's suggestions." one of the other officers of the small group - also a Commander - argued.

„He will. As Commander Tanikov already said, that empire has to present a united front to the galaxy." Lennox, who had finally caught up explained. He also gave a nod to the CO of the „Privateer's Bane". „As the Dark Lord said: Very good, Commander Tanikov." He chuckled lightly. „Or should I say „Moff Tanikov."

Ian Tanikov only shook his shoulders. „Who knows? In a few years you might call me that."

„Now if we only knew, what that was about that briefing."

„That should be obvious. We still have to deal with the inhabitants of Mirkeetoon and what they did to the 6th.

After all the empire has still real enemies out there."


	7. Chapter 7

TIE-Fighter 2: Battle Lines - Chapter 7

When Orkady Chromme entered the bridge of the „Privateer's Bane" the next morning he was in a somewhat grumpy mood.

After their encounter with Lord Vader the Lieutenant-Commander and his superior had found themselves the centre of attention. The sudden rise in popularity had been accompanied by a lot of drinks offered and Chromme's attempts at moderation had only been partially successful.

The next morning the Lieutenant-Commander had not only been suffering from a small hangover, but had also been forced to deal with a misdirected load of spare-parts for an AT-AT-battalion. As if a ship with the size and mission-profile of the „Privateer's Bane" carried AT-ATs, let alone an entire battalion of them. The administrative part that actually involved Chromme's participation would have been solved within five minutes, if he had to deal with a living being, but since the supply and support of the Imperial Armed Forces on that level was largely done by droids with very restrictive programming … . Well, between socialising with his peers in the evening and convincing a stubborn droid, that the frigate „Privateer's Bane" was not identical with the star destroyer „Bane" early in the morning Orkady Chromme had found less than four hours of sleep.

Since the beginning of his next shift was still an hour away the Lieutenant-Commander had hoped to have at least time for breakfast and perhaps an additional thirty minutes of sleep, when he had been called to the bridge by Tanikov. One look at the bridge-displays showed Chromme, that the „Privateer's Bane" had fallen in line with a number of other ships and was accelerating away from Mantoon Central.

„Right on time." hissed Tanikov, once Chromme joined him at the communications-station. Realizing, that the holo-projector was in stand-by-mode waiting for an incoming transmission the Lieutenant-Commander gritted his teeth and stood at attention next to his superior.

For the next few minutes the two senior officers of the „Privateer's Bane" wondered in silence, which pompous busybody was underlining his own importance by keeping them waiting. The sound of a gong finally provided release and the holo-projector became active, displaying the live-sized image of an Imperial Vice-Admiral.

„This is Admiral Fonada speaking. To the officers and crews of the Fourth Dreadnought-division of CRIMSON SABER, I wish you a good morning. I would also like to welcome the following ships and their crews, that have only recently joined us, among our ranks:

The destroyers

- Troth,

- Akolyte,

- Mollok,

- Scatha,

- Cu Sith,

- Managarm,

- Death's Hand,

as well as the frigates and escorts

- Privateer's Bane,

- Devotion to Duty,

- Raptor`s Tooth,

- Shadowed Knife,

- Aurodium Ignot,

- Harilin,

- Anvil,

- Praxis,

- Honor,

- Scorpion,

- Ronar Kim,

- Intrepid,

- Sandwasp,

- Doriana,

- Sting,

and finally Tarach.

Once again welcome to CRIMSABCOM. Unfortunately that was it with the pleasantries. Contrary to our original orders we won't depart in two weeks time to participate in maneuvres against the TepasiDefenseFleet. Instead we will depart now on a combat-mission, where we will be joined by our commands 2nd Division. This means we won't have the time to properly integrate our new units into our fleet."

For a brief moment the expressionless face of Admiral Fonada turned sour.

„Despite that I have the utmost confidence, that our new comrades will perform their duty professionally and with excellence. On their own, they all belong to the best. They wouldn't be here, if it were otherwise. Now they have to show, that they belong to the best as part of a larger fleet. It will be a trial by fire for all of us. We will make a coordinated jump of two hours to our meeting-point with the 2nd. You have until then to make yourself familiar with the mission. The encrypted details are now transmitted.

Good luck to all of us.

Fonada out."

Chromme looked at the chart identifying the new units. „Holy mother of all Banthas. They are really serious with this operation. Two Bellators, five ISDs, five heavy frigates including us and eleven Carracks and Corvettes. That alone is enough to devastate most systems."

„Remember, that those ships aren't reinforcements, but mostly replacements for ships in need of yard-time or which are rotated onto other positions. All combined amount to perhaps thirty percent of a Mandator's firepower and there are four of them in the 4th Division alone. Changes nothing, that it is irresponsible to sent out a task-force with so many ships not integrated. We should have been given at least two weeks, if not four to train and to conduct maneuvres together to make this a real ensemble and not a number of soloists put together." the commander of the „Privateer's Bane" complained. „Very well, the mission-details should tell us why the hurry." Ian Tanikov stated, while he fished his code-cylinder out of his chest-pocket. After decrypting the file he sent a copy over to Chromme, then settled down behind the dispay-ring of his command-station. The Lieutenant-Commander gave his data-pad a suspicious look as if expecting bad news and with a fatalistic sigh he opened the file and started to read it.

If started with a combination of audio-, video- and sensor-records from the 6th Mantoon Battle Group. And although the Lieutenant-Commander had halfway expected it, the sights and sounds from ships, that had been destroyed days ago, from men and women, who had died by the tens of thousands days ago left him with a feeling of ice-cold fingers running down his spine.

It was also the first real look he got at the planet of Mirkeeton, after having heard so much about the mysterious world over the last two days.

Mirkeeton - as the file showed - was the second out of seven planets, that orbited what seemed to be a typical yellow G-star. A single, two thousand kilometre wide moon was the planets sole companion. From what the files showed Mirkeeton appeared to be a planet with nearly a dozen small continents and thousands of smaller islands evenly spread out on an otherwise ocean-covered world. No ice-caps indicated a mild climate at the poles and tropical temperatures at the equator. The deep blue colour of water and the green of plant-life were only sparsely interrupted by a few small and isolated dots of grey mountain-tips and orange-brown deserts.

All in all Mirkeeton appeared to be a pleasant enough world and yet something about the paradise-like picture felt wrong to Orkady Chromme. And after a few, tense moments he realised, what it was. There were no cities visible, nor were there streets. Any signs of higher civilisation, especially that of a civilisation capable of destroying a third of an entire Imperial battle-group, was missing. And yet the records of the Imperial Survey Corps had shown traces of technology. High technology.

The Lieutenant-Commander turned his attention to the recorded sensor-readings of the data-package. The Sixth Mantoon Battle-Group had left hyperspace between the orbits of the fourth and the fifth planet of the system, approaching Mirkeeton with twenty percent lightspeed. The record on those scenes didn't change and Chromme started to wonder, what the team of intelligence agents and military analysts, who had put the file together, had thought wasting their and his time by lingering on that section.

„You see the yellow light?" Tanikov, who had seemed to read his thoughts, asked.

„What yellow light?" Orkady Chromme asked back, but the hint had been enough for the Lieutenant-Commander to know, what to look for. „Wait, I've seen it, too."

On the screens of the sensor- and communication-consoles aboard the ships of the Sixth Battle-Group a pale yellow light appeared, filling the entire screen and vanished again. Several seconds later the process repeated itself. Tanikov and Chromme watched the events for a little longer, before they turned to face each other.

„You've noticed it, too?" Tanikov asked. „How the colour and brightness of the impulse increased?"

„While the interval between two signals decreased. Yes, I have. What do you think that means?"

„A very advanced warning. Whoever receives that signal is getting closer and closer to someone's personal fence. And I think whatever happened to the 6th Mantoon Battle-Group was a result of crossing that fence." Tanikov explained dryly, but his face was grim.


End file.
